


Invitation grants farewell

by andeemae



Series: Our dreams assured [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: A little, Angst, Bittersweet, F/M, Fox meets a baby, and has a personal crisis, family visits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:49:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27092314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andeemae/pseuds/andeemae
Summary: Riyo deserves a life with a man who has a future. A man that can marry her, a man that can be a parent with her, a man that is recognized as a man.
Relationships: Riyo Chuchi/CC-1010 | Fox
Series: Our dreams assured [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977586
Comments: 31
Kudos: 131





	Invitation grants farewell

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Wars, I only play with the characters.

Fox stands with his arms tucked behind his back, feet apart, scanning the updates on his HUD as he waits beside Riyo on the landing pad.

He’d assigned himself as her guard, until a more permanent plan could be implemented, when the declaration had come down dismantling the individual planetary security details for each senator. It had been decided that it was safer, more secure, to assign protective duty to the Coruscant Guard after several independent security guards were found to be passing along sensitive information to the Separatists. 

“Why us?” Stone asked, as he and Fox began the arduous task of spreading their already sparse numbers even more thin to comply with their new duties. “Why not the Senate Guard? Give them something to do for once.”

“Because” Fox grunted, pressing his fingers to his burning eyes, “just like the independent security, the Senate Guard can be bought.”

But the clone forces couldn’t. They were a perfect, loyal source of protection, and they were to be the ones standing between the Republic’s senators and death.

Thorn frowned, leaned in. “Have any of them?” 

Fox shook his head. “Not yet. Not that we know of anyway.”

Thire made a noise at that, clearly disbelieving. Fox didn’t blame him. If he had a credit to his name, he’d bet it that half the Senate Guard were dirty. They have no proof, but the fact that the Coruscant Guard were chosen for the expanded duties and not the Blue, was all the proof Fox needed. 

The Senate’s lack of faith in their own guard was as good as a confirmation for him.

Still, as welcome as their confidence in him and his men is, it’s more work on their already overflowing plate.

With the declaration had come the promise for more troopers to cover the workload, but Fox gets daily updates on delays and modified training schedules…

It’s a logistics nightmare, but it comes with the one small reprieve of allowing him extra time with Riyo.

“What, exactly, is your excuse for assigning a commander to a senator from an outer rim moon?” Thorn asked, brows high on his forehead. 

“It leaves more troops for other senators and with a low level target as my own assignment it gives me time to keep up with my administrative duties.”

Thorn stared at him for a moment, then snorted.

“Administrative duties? That is some high level bantha shit.” He’d grinned. “Unless that’s code for keeping your dick fit.”

Fox had simply glared in response to that. His sex life was not up for discussion.

Much as Thorn had a point, Fox’s explanation was weak at best and suspect at worst, no one had called him on it and demanded a change. 

It’s nothing short of a miracle, and he knows it. 

Blinking away his alert, notifying him of yet another delay in the new troopers arrival, Fox glances over at Riyo.

She’s practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, face upturned and eyes scanning the sky.

It’s just the two of them. Her aides had been given personal leave for the duration of the senate recess, and Fox is grateful for their absence. 

With just the two of them, Riyo had held his hand as she’d excitedly told him about her sister and the baby he was about to meet. Not that he’d heard much. He’d been much more focused on the way her eyes lit up and her nose wrinkled as she talked, the softness of her palms against his. She’d squeezed it almost absently, pressed it between her soft hands, laced her fingers between his and grinned as she babbled.

“You’ll love Raicho,” she told him, more than once. “She’s excited to meet you.”

“Does she-uh-is she aware of…” Fox finally asked, unsure just how to finish his query. 

He was still struggling to define just what they were, even now, months out.

It’s a relationship, to be certain, but he’s yet to see a satisfactory term to use for them. Boyfriend and girlfriend seem too juvenile, lovers a bit weighty, and every term he’s heard in the barracks is too filthy to even give mention, even when he feels they may very well be the most accurate.

They’re a couple, a ‘we’, an ‘us’, but they get none of the open moments other couples get. There are no dinner dates, not even at dingy diners in the lower levels, no walks holding hands, no quick kisses in passing, no acknowledgement in the open of what passes between them.

All they’re allowed, all they can steal from the regulations and mandates and social expectations, are hidden moments behind closed doors. Kisses and brief touches out of sight of judging eyes, pilfered meals shared in her room or office, and nights in her bed.

They exist in the twilight, where it inconveniences no one. Where Fox can stop pretending he desires nothing but to serve the Republic and Riyo can pretend she has the power to let him. 

She pressed his fingers to her lips, peered up at him with her golden eyes.

“She knows you are very dear to me, my most beloved.”

Fox hadn’t been sure how to respond to that beyond nodding, scowling down at his hands.

“Don’t be so grim,” she’d brushed her fingers along his jaw, taken his chin and turned his face toward hers. “This isn’t a battle.”

No, a battle he could handle. Battles were what he was bred for.

Meeting the much loved sister of the woman he cared more for than the entire Republic was far more daunting. The stakes are much higher. 

“What if she doesn’t like me?”

He’d never felt more like a youngling, unsure and frightened, as he let the question slip out, grimacing at how pathetic it sounded. He’d had more nerve facing live fire the first time.

But it was a real concern. Fox hadn’t been designed to make friends. He’s brisk and efficient, and that seems to rub most beings the wrong way. Beyond that, clones seem to put people off their ease. 

Riyo’s attentions are nothing short of a miracle, and are so fragile a thing, he worries what may happen when the person she holds the highest regard for arrives and points out what she’s been blind to so far. 

Fox is nothing more than a manufactured man, a product, not good enough for her. She could, with no effort at all, do better.

His stomach knots up at the thought.

Scooting closer, crushing the almost nonexistent space between them, she’d leaned in, pressed a featherlight kiss to his jaw.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she whispered against his skin. “You are very likable.”

Tolerable, he thought dimly, as she pulled him down a bit, pressed a deep kiss to his lips. He was tolerable, but she seemed to have an affinity for tolerable, and he was grateful for it. 

For a few minutes he’d let her kiss away his worries, let his hands wander over her curves and inch up her thighs, under her skirt, until the transport lurched to a stop. 

Purple cheeked, she’d righted her outfit as Fox slammed on his helmet and got out, hurried around to the opposite door and helped her out. 

For those few minutes after exiting the transport, he’d calmed. 

Then, as minutes ticked by, the anxiety began creeping back in. 

There is no touching on the landing pad, no comfort beyond a soft smile sent his direction, so he settles for distraction. 

He mentally runs through every protocol the deck attendants, all natborns, are failing to follow, makes note to send reprimands to their supervisors. They’ll ignore him, they always do, but he’ll have proof he at least did his due diligence when something inevitably happens. 

After capturing a few images of negligent staff on his HUD to attach as proof, he’s halfway through blinking away his morning messages, neglected in favor of reading up on child development in anticipation of Riyo’s nephew’s arrival, when something jostles him. 

Riyo has his right arm gripped in her hands, her eyes wide and focused on a civilian transport descending toward them. “That’s it!”

Sure enough, Fox’s HUD alerts him that Senator Riyo Chuchi’s guest is arriving imminently. 

Staying at his side, latched to his arm, Riyo watches the transport land gently on the pad, then the dozens of attendants swarm and secure it before the doors open and the exit ramp lowers. 

It’s not a private transport. Fox watches cautiously as the higher class passengers are escorted off, droids and porters carting their excessive luggage after them. There are plenty of Pantorans among them, Twi’lek, humans, and a few Chagrian, but none alert as Raicho Chuchi.

“Riyo!” 

Squinting, Fox spots the woman they’ve been waiting for at the top of the ramp, infant on her hip. 

“Raicho!” 

Riyo starts to bound off, but Fox catches her by the wrist. It’s hardly secure to go rushing into a crowd.

“Senator, you can’t-”

He’s barely got his warning started when she tugs his hand, pulls him along with her. 

“Then come along!” She laughs, dragging him behind her, weaving through the crowd. 

Not that they need to do much maneuvering, Fox’s presence is given a wide berth once it’s noted. The crowd parts like cadets diving away from live fire, casting wary looks his way as they pass. 

Riyo relinquishes her grip on his hand halfway up the ramp, launches herself at her sister. 

Standing back, Fox settles into parade rest as he observes them. 

He’s familiar with Raicho Chuchi from her file and the holo on Riyo’s desk. Still, he’d expected them to be more similar. 

Raicho is taller, thinner, even her hair is a few shades off from Riyo’s, cut short and curled tightly to her head. Her eyes are the same color, though a different shape, squint up as she laughs and hugs Riyo. 

“Mako, you’ve gotten so big!” Riyo coos as she takes the baby, settles him on her hip and peppers his face with kisses. 

“He’s teething now,” Raicho explains as Mako squeals, grabs at Riyo’s headdress, yanks on the tassels, pulling them toward his mouth. 

Tilting her head, putting the dangling objects out of Mako’s chubby reach, Riyo continues her greeting, asking about the trip, the company and the food. 

“Well, no one is thrilled to share travel space with a baby,” Raicho says with a shrug before squeezing the baby’s foot. “But we survived.”

“Where’s the droid with your luggage?” Riyo asks, shifting the baby to the other hip as she squints up the ramp. 

Raicho sighs. “Probably on the underside. Gathering the baby things.”

Fox starts to suggest they go to the storage port to make sure the droid doesn’t end up in the wrong place, but freezes when he notices the baby has quieted and is staring at him. Drool is dripping down his front and onto Riyo’s shoulder. 

For no discernible reason, he makes a high pitched noise, begins gurgling and reaching for Fox. 

Stepping back, he’s clearly upset the infant somehow, Fox winces when the squealing only gets louder.

“You want to visit with Fox?” Riyo asks as the baby continues to stretch his chubby fingers toward him. 

“What does he want?” Fox finally asks, as fat tears begin rolling down Mako’s plump cheeks, still reaching for him. 

Raicho takes her son back, bounces him and coos for a moment to calm him before answering.

“He likes the visor, I think.” She smiles, must sense Fox’s confusion even through the bucket, because she adds, “It’s shiny, he can see himself in it.”

Fox nods. The kid would get along with a few of his brothers wonderfully. They also like to stare at themselves in shiny objects. 

“Oh, Raicho,” Riyo grabs Fox’s arm again seemingly realizing she’s neglected introductions, “this is Commander Fox. Commander, this is, obviously, my sister, Raicho.”

Raicho grins. “I assumed as much.”

Fox nods. “Much the same, ma’am.”

A droid rolls up, a cart attached to the back packed with brightly colored luggage, chirps happily at them. 

“And there’s our bags,” Raicho tells Mako cheerfully, bouncing him again. 

He doesn’t seem to care much. The light must glint off Fox’s bucket, because Mako begins reaching for him again, little blue face screwed up in frustration. 

Grimacing at the noise, Fox ushers them back to the transport. He lets them settle in as he supervises the droids loading the luggage. 

It takes several minutes, the pair have got a surprising amount of bags and heavy packages considering one of them is roughly the size of a wamp rat, but once it’s finally all stowed away Fox ducks in the back of the transport. 

He starts to keep to the door, a respectable distance from Riyo, but she reaches out and hooks her fingers under the armor at his wrist. 

“It’s a little late to worry about catching something from me,” she whispers, low enough only he can hear, her lips twitching. 

His HUD shows him Raicho watching the exchange from her seat across from them, clearly amused as Fox reluctantly inches over, finally settling beside Riyo. He stays straight backed and stiff, though, even as Riyo pats his knee. 

The baby is in the floorboard, happily gnawing his own foot when he notices Fox. He begins an ungainly flop towards him as Fox’s HUD begins flashing with warnings, reminders from the hastily made module Fox had thrown together and uploaded the evening before. It was a crude compilation of the best information Fox could find on infants in general and Pantoran younglings specifically. 

So far it’s alerted him that the baby’s excessive drooling and habit of sticking everything it can get its grubby hands on, coupled with its roughly determined age, mean it’s deciduous teeth are erupting through its gums. Teething, as his mother calls it. Now it’s reminding him infants have limited gross motor skills, and nearly nonexistent fine motor skills. 

Not that he needs the notification. He can see that plainly enough. 

Riyo and Raicho continue talking, discussing plans for the next few days, as Mako slaps at Fox’s boot. 

“Do you want up, little one?” Riyo asks as she hoists the baby to her lap, deposits him with a plop. 

Still discontented, Mako jerks and wiggles, grunts and grabs at Fox, reaching up towards the bucket.

“You won’t like sitting on Fox very much,” Riyo warns him. “His armor isn’t very comfy.”

Raicho muffles a laugh and Riyo shoots her a look.

When Mako’s little face begins screwing up in frustration, threatening another shrill noise, Fox sighs. 

Reaching up, he pops the seals and pulls off his bucket, sets it gently on his lap in front of the baby.

“So you are a man under there,” Raicho says, eyebrows high as she studies him. She shoots Riyo a look, grins, then says something in Pantoran that earns her an eye roll and a sharp retort.

Frowning, Fox tries to commit the foreign sounds to memory to decipher later, but can’t quite focus enough for it. Shaking his head, he looks down at the baby.

Eyes widening, Mako slaps at his reflection with his spit covered palms, babbles at the helmet seriously as Riyo laughs.

Fox grimaces. He’s going to have to scrub it later.

-

Fox rubs the smudge marks and spit streaks from his helmet as he rides up the service turbolift. He’d made sure the women and infant were secure in the apartment, then gone back downstairs to ensure the luggage was properly handled before going back up. 

Entering the security code, he waits for the doors to slide open, then steps off.

He can hear the soft murmurs of Riyo and her sister floating out from the kitchen, soft laughter and words in a language he doesn’t speak. For a moment he considers putting his helmet back on, using the universal translator he’d modified into it to see what they find so funny, or more importantly, what Raicho is saying about him, but doesn’t. They’d speak basic if they wanted him in the conversation.

It’s comparable to when he and his brothers use their closed channels in the buckets. It’s private, personal, and he won’t butt in, no matter how much he’d like to.

Instead, he walks into the sitting room, to where they’d set up Mako’s crib and put him down for a nap.

Crib is a loose term, Fox thinks, for the miniature containment unit, complete with bars, they’ve placed the baby in. It seems closer to a tiny prison.

Stepping closer, he sees Mako is awake, sitting up and gazing out at him through the little bars.

Setting his bucket down on the ornate table, Fox crouches down, tilts his head and studies the baby.

He’s never been this close to anyone so small. Clones aren’t decanted until they can walk and have at least basic language skills. Even then, Fox had little interaction with the youngest of his brothers. It simply wasn’t necessary for him.

Mako leans forward, grabs the bars, shakes them.

“Not sure I’m the best person to spring you, kid.”

Babbling incoherently in response, Mako shakes the bars again, begins pulling himself up.

For a creature with only the crudest of motor skills, and next to no balance, Mako is surprisingly quick at pulling himself up.

Standing, Fox looks down and finds Mako reaching up, beckoning with one hand. The universal child sign asking for someone to pick them up, if the HoloNet information is accurate.

“You want your mother?”

Mako simply stares, drool dripping down his front.

Hesitating, Fox glances toward the kitchen, toward people who’d actually been babies, before looking back at Mako.

He’s fallen back, plopped on his bottoms, and is now reaching up with both hands.

Swallowing down the anxiety bubbling up, Fox reaches down and carefully picks up the baby.

He’s light, weighs less than a fresh bundle of armor, and Fox holds him at arm's length for a moment before mimicking Riyo and setting him on his hip.

Mako slaps at the armor a few times, chatters at it before resting his cheek on Fox’s shoulder, staring at him with wide golden eyes as he gnaws at the plastoid.

“That’s probably not the best thing to chew on,” Fox warns him, reaching up and trying to push the gummy mouth off his scarred armor.

In response, Mako slaps at his hand, presses his face to the shoulder plate and chews harder. 

“That-no,” Fox tries again, but the baby persists.

As he’s gently trying to dislodge the baby, he hears laughter.

“Having trouble, Commander?”

Raicho smiles as she crosses to him, reaches out and pokes Mako in the cheek.

“Are you turning the soldier into your teether?”

Riyo appears in the doorway, brow scrunched in confusion, then eases into a soft smile when she spots Fox, now struggling with the wriggling baby.

“I think-uh-maybe he’s hungry?” Fox offers, as Mako fusses, sucks at the plastoid fruitlessly, getting more and more upset. 

“Very good guess, I’d say you’re right. Come here,” Raicho claps her hands, holds them out. “You’re hungry, and unless your new friend has working breasts, you’re stuck with me.”

Mako eyes her for a moment, then flings himself out, startling Fox as he tries to keep hold of him.

Raicho smiles, catches her son under the arms and swings him into the cradle of her arms. “I’ve got him. Don’t worry.”

Fox is certain there’s plenty of reason to worry. Babies flopping themselves around bonelesly is terribly disconcerting.

More disconcerting, though, is when Raicho pulls down the side of her shirt and maneuvers Mako’s mouth onto her breast.

Fox immediately looks down, begins adjusting his kama as a distraction while heat rises on his face. 

Riyo materializes beside him, rag in hand, fighting off a smile as she wipes at the thick slobber coating Fox’s pauldron. 

“Will you be with us all week, Commander? If so, I’ll pump and you can feed him. Give you some practice.”

Frowning, unsure what he’d need practice for, Fox begins straightening his belt.

“Mostly, ma’am. The schedule is still a bit fluid.”

A moment passes, only the squishy noises of the feeding baby filling the quiet, before Raicho laughs.

“I think your skirt and belt are in order.”

Face burning, Fox nods, tucks his hands behind his back and directs his gaze over the top of Raicho’s head. He forgoes explaining he’s not wearing a ‘skirt’ for the moment, it hardly seems like the time for a lesson on proper terminology. 

“He’s trying to be polite, Rai,” Riyo tells her, sounding a bit exasperated. “Women don’t routinely pop their breasts out in front of him, even to feed their babies.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Fox doesn’t even have a second to examine that statement before she fires off a question.

“Do they not have wet nurses on Kamino?” 

“Wet nurses?” He shakes his head. “No, ma’am. They wait until we’re capable of independent self care-feeding ourselves, cleaning ourselves, ambulatory-before they decant us.”

If asked, he’s sure the Kaminoans would explain that having females around, even just to feed their product, was too close to coddling. It would weaken them, make them less efficient.

Whether that’s true, Fox isn’t sure, but he knows plenty of brothers who’ve felt the lack of breasts in their lives have severely hindered them. They work tirelessly to amend the omission. 

“Decant,” Raicho murmurs.

In his periphery, Fox spots a stricken look pass over her features as she looks at Riyo, then she clears her throat. 

“Forgive me. The Republic isn’t terribly forthcoming with the specifics of how...the way…”

“How clones are made?” He offers, knowing just what she's stumbling over and is wary of just how to ask.

She winces and he feels Riyo’s hand flex around his forearm. Maybe his tone was too harsh. It’s a blunt subject though.

“I-Yes, I suppose that’s what I meant.” A strained smile stays fixed on her lip. “Again, my apologies.”

“Nothing to apologize for, ma’am.” Though every time he speaks of clone manufacturing, he seems to get one.

Her smile eases.

“You’re welcome to call me ‘Raicho’.” Her eyes brighten. “I mean, you’ve seen my right breast, now. We really can’t be so formal, now can we?”

Fox feels his face begin to burn, and she bursts into laughter.

-

“Oh, yes, I know, you want your Uncle Fox,” Raicho coos as Mako wriggles in her arms, fighting to get to the ground when he sees Fox arrive.

They’ve been on Coruscant a week, and the baby seems to have developed an affinity for him. Fox isn’t sure why, beyond wanting to gum his armor.

He isn’t sure about being dubbed ‘uncle’ either. 

He isn’t, and never will be, the kids uncle, and the moniker stings each time he hears it. It’s a taste of a life he has no hope of having, tantalizingly close, but galaxies away.

Still, he can’t help but smile as the baby crawls clumsily towards him, plops back on his bottom and reaches up. 

“Faster tonight, aren’t you?”

Raicho sighs. “He's just excited. Your sweet Sargent is a bit frightened of him and he’s missed having a playmate.”

Fox grunts in response, pulls away as Mako tries to stuff one grubby hand in his mouth and latches onto Fox’s nose. 

He’s not much of a playmate, but he’s not quite as intimidated by the child as the others he’s sent over. Assigning others to them during the morning and afternoon had become a necessity, Fox’s workload hasn’t allowed for him to lounge his days away. Much as he’d like to. 

“It keeps spitting on me and biting me,” Nately told him, looking mortified when Fox came to relieve him one evening. “I don’t think it likes me.”

“It’s drool,” Fox explained. “He’s developing teeth. It’s normal.”

He’d made a point to send a copy of his research on younglings, developmental stages and age appropriate language, to the entire Guard after that. With their new duties they’re coming into close proximity with more and more younglings, it wouldn’t do to have his men upset a parent with a crude joke or insensitive remark.

“I don’t know why everyone is so antsy.” Thorn shrugged. “I like the little biters. Organa’s niece drew me a picture.”

He’d held up the crudely drawn likeness, himself with an overly large bucket and sloppy emblem on thick flimsy, grinned proudly.

Fox arched an eyebrow. 

“Uncanny.”

“I know.”

He’d pinned it above his bunk.

Shifting Mako, Fox taps his chubby leg affectionately. 

He’d suggested, the first time Mako scooted to him, that perhaps he just missed his father. According to his research, infants have poor eyesight. Perhaps he simply mistakes one humanoid male for another.

“Era is Pantoran,” Riyo pointed out. “Mako’s eyes aren’t so bad he doesn’t know you aren’t blue.”

As his pauldron once again gets gnawed on, Fox decides the cool plastoid is simply soothing on the baby’s gums. 

Mako flails, his own personal signal for a game of toss. 

“Up,” Fox grunts, lightly tossing him up and catching him, smiling when he’s rewarded with a delighted squeal. 

“Fox, be careful,” Riyo warns, as she always does.

There’s no real worry behind her words. It’s simply habit. 

After a few more tosses, he settles a thoroughly exhausted Mako in the crook of his arm, drops into the chair beside Riyo, listens as she and Raicho discuss some family function. 

“Wini has to have a headcount,” Raicho says, tapping away on her datapad. “The venue wants it for the menu.”

“It’s months away,” Riyo huffs. “They weren’t so particular for Nessa’s party.”

“That was three years ago,” Raicho explains. “There wasn’t a war on then.”

She shoots Fox an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean-it’s just, the war has created a supply issue.”

Nodding, Fox sighs. “Yeah. We are aware.”

He’s not only dealt with the delays, he’s heard about them, endlessly, from entitled and pampered senators. 

“Will you be attending?”

Frowning, unsure what they’re even discussing beyond a family matter, Fox looks at Riyo. 

“My grandparents’ anniversary. They’ll be married sixty years in a few months,” she explains. She shoots Raicho a look. “And I hadn’t asked him yet.”

“Well,” Raicho shrugs, “now he’s been asked. Will you come? Our parents are eager to meet you. Our Riyo is picky, so they want to meet the dashing commander that’s so enamored her.”

Blinking, Fox tries to smile, but freezes in more of a grimace. 

Sixty years. Her grandparents have been together sixty years. 

Fox will be lucky to live half that long. He’ll be even luckier to live what’s left of it with Riyo. Clones have no rights. He and his brothers can no more get married than a tooka can. 

They’re all grim thoughts, brutal realities he lets himself ignore most days. Moments like this though, bring them into sharp relief. 

He’s simply playing house, living a fantasy. And it’ll collapse without warning. 

“Fox?” Riyo bites her lip, nose wrinkled in concern. “I’ve only told Raicho and my parents, I promise. We’d tell everyone else you were there strictly for security.”

He nearly laughs. If only it were so simple as worrying about their relationship being outed. Much as that is a concern, he has faith that Stone, Thire, and Thorn could handle things should his failures be found out. They’ll protect their brothers, maybe even better than him.

Forcing his face to relax, Fox smiles weakly. 

“Of course. I’ll-it’s hard to say.” Months away is as good as another lifetime for him. He may not even be alive. “I’ll try to clear my schedule.”

Raicho chuckles at the weak attempt at humor. Riyo, though, gnaws her lip a moment longer, looks on the cusp of prodding him more when Raicho begins talking about moon cycles. 

Unclipping his datapad from his hip, he decides work is as good a distraction as any for his pitifully short life expectancy and the fact that he’s not even allowed to spend what little time he does have with someone he cares about. 

Propping his datapad up, Fox pulls up schematics for one of the Senate conference halls, tries to determine the best position for his men to stand guard at and rotate breaks. 

“What do you make of this?” He asks Mako, pointing to the seating assignment. 

He blows a spit bubble by way of response. 

“My sentiments exactly.” 

When he makes a grab for the pad, Fox catches his hands, lets him begin chewing on his gloved finger. 

A few minutes pass, and he asks Mako a few more nonsense questions as he marks up the schematic, pretending his gurgling and clapping have some real meaning. 

While the distraction helps, the back of Fox’s mind rattles with the indignities. 

He deserves a life. It isn’t as if he or any of his brothers asked to be created. They didn’t start this war, they have no stake in it, and yet the entire outcome is rested on their shoulders. 

Mako bites down, his lone tooth stabbing into Fox’s finger, snapping him from his dark thoughts. 

Finger still in his mouth, he gives Fox a gummy grin. 

Smiling sadly, Fox tugs his finger out, pats Mako on his rounded little belly. 

He’d no more asked to be born than Fox had asked to be created. Their existences were equally random. 

The only difference, at the moment anyways, is Fox has the ability to ponder the unfairness of his life. 

Giving the baby a little jiggle, he sighs. 

“I’m making some more tea,” Riyo tells him, expression still a bit anxious. “Would you like some caf?”

“I never turn down caf,” he answers, giving what he hopes is a reassuring smile. 

It doesn’t seem to work. She still gives him a careful nod, then gives his ear an affectionate tweak as she passes by, casting him a worried look as she vanishes into the kitchen. 

“You’re good with babies.”

Eyebrow arching, Fox looks at Raicho

She’s sat her datapad down, the bright invitation casting her blue skin in brilliant colors, as she smiles. 

“I wish his father were half as patient,” she rolls her eyes. “A bit late to regret my choice of husband now though, isn’t it?”

Fox frowns. 

Riyo had mentioned her sister’s husband wasn’t thrilled with being a parent. 

“I warned her he wasn’t the fatherly type, ” she’d told him, as they sat in bed, when her sister had first announced she was coming for a visit. “She thought he’d be different with his own.”

Evidently, he wasn’t. 

“Some people just don’t care for children,” she’d added. She’d angled her gaze up, warm cheek pressed to his shoulder. “Do you?”

“Like younglings?” Fox shrugged. “I don’t know any.”

Now though, he’d firmly say he enjoys them. Or at least he likes Mako. He’s caused Fox far less trouble than most adults, definitely less trouble than most senators. 

“He’s a good tyke,” Fox tells her, smoothing out the wisps of dark purple hair on Mako’s head. “Listens to me better than half the shinies fresh from Kamino.”

Though his hygiene leaves a lot to be desired. The shinies have him beat there.

“Hmm,” she nods. “You’ll be a good father one day, when all this mess is over.”

Keeping his gaze on Mako, Fox bites his tongue. 

It’s cruel, thoughtlessly so, but cruel nonetheless.

It’s also a confirmation of what he’s long suspected. Citizens don’t understand the clones’ position, their lack of agency, their grim future. He’s hardly surprised. Most senators are oblivious to the future that awaits the identical men protecting them, and of the few that do, only a handful actually care.

There is no after the war for them. There are no children, at least not any they’ll live to see. 

He’s tasted a kind of life he was never meant to imagine. Knowing what he can’t have is a kind of cruel past any torture he’s ever heard of. 

Now though, he finds himself looking at younglings with blue skin, off colored from other Pantorans, wondering if they’re half human, if his and Riyo’s non existent children might look like them. 

He’s brushed the thoughts off just as quickly. It’s an exhausting exercise.

Pantoran culture is still painfully stifled. Riyo’s family is progressive, but even they’d balk at their daughter having a child with a man, a clone, who can’t even marry her, let alone guarantee he’ll be around to help raise the kid.

He has no future, and he’s dragging Riyo down with him. It’s clear as transparisteel now. 

It’s too much to deal with. He was never meant for this life, these thoughts, this turbulence. 

He needs space. 

Instead of unloading his life’s issues on her, he shrugs, then gives his pad a stern look and pretends he’s gotten an alert.

“I’ve got to go,” he tells her, standing and passing a protesting Mako to her. “Duty calls.”

He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t wait for Riyo, just rushes to the service turbo and jams his bucket on.

Thire is on his way to take over duty before Fox even reaches the lower level.

-

“You’re being an idiot,” Thire tells him, as he flops into the wobbly chair in front of Fox’s desk.

“You are being too kind,” Thorn counters. “He’s being a karking Hutt tit. Right, Stone?”

Stone, half asleep on the lumpy couch, makes an affirmative noise.

Thorn jabs his hand in the air, toward the now snoring commander. “See? Stone agrees.”

Fox barely looks up from his work, acquisition forms and more assignments for guard duty, rolls his eyes. 

“I don’t care.”

They’ve had the same conversation for days now, since Fox had sent for Thire to take over for him guarding Riyo.

“You’ve got a beautiful woman, who overlooks that you’ve got all the warmth and charm of a half starved nexu, in love with you. Asking about you. Willing to forgive you’re being bantha shit crazy,” Thorn huffs, glaring at Fox, “and you’re hiding in your damn office!”

Fox doesn’t look up.

“I’m doing-”

“-doing the right thing, yes, we heard you the first five hundred times you uttered that lie,” Thire snaps. “You are taking the easy way out. Nothing in love is ever smooth. These are all just...obstacles to overcome.”

Pressing his fingers to his eyes, Fox sighs. 

He is doing the right thing. Riyo deserves a life with a man who has a future. A man that can marry her, a man that can be a parent with her, a man that is recognized as a man.

“This is not an episode of karking ‘Corellian General’,” he grumbles before dropping his hands, glaring at the two of them. “Love can’t fix everything.”

“Not with that attitude,” Thorn grumbles.

Ignoring them, Fox goes back to his datapad and his work. 

They mill around for a few minutes, until it becomes clear Fox is done with this round of discussion, then they trickle out.

“You should at least talk to her,” Thorn mutters as he pulls the door closed on his way out. “She deserves an explanation. She’s going to feel pretty used otherwise.”

A knot forms Fox’s guts.

Worry over Riyo feeling used is the only argument he’s heard that he feels holds water. Still, he can’t bring himself to seek her out. His resolve will crumble under her scrutiny and silver tongue.

Propping his head against his hand, elbow to the desk, he sighs, presses on with his job and ignores the ache in his chest.

-

Fox wakes at his desk, neck tight and sore from the awkward angle he’d fallen asleep in, a pool of drool formed on the flimsi notes he’d been reviewing.

Yawning, he grimaces at the taste in his mouth. Sleep and stale caf are a potent combination. 

Someone knocks, and he vaguely remembers that’s what woke him as he stretches and stands, stumbles around his desk.

It won’t be one of his fellow commanders, they don’t knock, and it’s too soft to be one of the older lads. His door normally shudders on the hinges when they pound on it. A shiny then, Fox thinks blearily. They’d better have a good reason for waking him at oh-two-hundred.

Stifling another yawn, Fox readies his deepest scowl.

Swinging the door open, he’s got a reprimand at the ready. He deflates when he finds not a shiny trooper, but Riyo.

She stares at him for what feels like an eternity, hair loose around her shoulders, eyes a bit red rimmed and puffy, before she takes a breath. 

“May I come in?”

Her voice is so soft, brittle and fearful as it had been when she’d first arrived on Coruscant, and Fox feels his dead heart crack. 

Voice stuck in his chest, Fox doesn’t answer, just moves from the doorway to let her through.

He shuts the door behind her, takes a breath, then turns and finds her standing less than an arm's length away. 

She’s out of place in his office, with her delicate shawl and soft colors, just like she’s out of place in his life. Soft and delicate beings don’t belong around clones, not around him. 

Her mouth opens, once, then twice, not even a sigh escaping, before she closes her eyes, takes a breath.

“Your brothers said I should come by if I wanted an explanation,” she says, voice just above a whisper. A weak smile ticks up the edges of her lips. “But...they assured me it’s not because, after seeing my sister’s breasts, you’ve decided mine are lacking.”

It’s such an awful attempt at humor that Fox nearly groans. If the situation weren’t so fraught, he’d tell her it was the worst he’d ever heard, and considering what some of the newest troopers find funny, that’s saying something.

He’s too frayed, too on edge to point out the ridiculousness of her word, though.

The little smile slips from her lips, slides to the ground to land beside the terrible joke.

She hesitates, then reaches out, tries to take his hand, but he steps out of reach.

“Fox…”

He shakes his head.

“We can’t do this,” he tells her, knowing his brothers will have given her a broad idea of the issue. “I can’t risk what will happen to my men if someone finds out about us.”

It’s a firm argument, one she won’t have enough of a grasp of to fight with.

She steps closer, one brow arching.

“Thorn made it sound like the baby upset you.”

Kriffing Thorn and his big mouth.

Fox shakes his head.

“I thought-you seemed to like Mako...if he was annoying-”

“He wasn’t,” Fox cuts her off. “I-he...the problem isn’t me not liking the baby.”

Fox rubs his eyes, runs a hand through his hair.

“The problem is-it’s that I do like the little biter.”

Looking up, he finds Riyo frowning, staring at him, trying to divine meaning from his words.

“Riyo...you deserve a life. You deserve to get to have a family, a baby of your own, a wedding and a sixtieth anniversary and I-I can’t give you any of those things.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but now that he’s started, Fox can’t stem the flow. The words come like water from a burst dam.

“I have no rights, Riyo. I’m property. Orn Free Taa’s protocol droid has more choices than I do. I’m not supposed to want things beyond the glory of the Republic. I’m not supposed to want you, or a life, or a kid.” He sucks in a breath. “But I do.” 

He grinds his teeth, glares at the ground at her feet.

“I wish I didn’t, because it hurts, wanting something so badly and knowing it’s out of reach, all because I’m a product.”

A moment passes, then Riyo’s golden shoes step into view and warm, wet palms reach up and press to his cheeks.

Her thumbs sweep under his eyes, and he realizes her hands aren’t wet, his face is. At some point during his rant, tears had leaked out. Another failing. Clones aren’t supposed to feel enough to cry.

“You are no product,” she tells him, her voice steady. “You’re a man, and I’m ashamed of this Republic for trying to ease its burden with you and your brothers’ lives. They want to preserve their way of life without inconvenience, but they’re failing their morals.”

She tilts his face up, gently, then ducks a bit, forcing him to look at her.

“I’m sorry I’ve failed you.”

“You haven’t-”

“I have,” she corrects him, eyes shining.

Fox shakes his head. She’s been with Amidala and Organa, pressing for stipends and leave, against future production, urging systems to supply their own soldiers. They’ve drafted bill after bill, trying to give troops rights, it’s not their fault their fellow senators are spineless or only looking to pad their finances. 

“I understand if you want to end this.” She closes her eyes. “If it’s for your sake, I’ll go. But not for my own.”

Her hands slip from his face, clasp at her middle.

“I know it’s selfish, but...you make me so very happy, and I like to believe I make you happy too. I don’t want to give this up, love is too rare in this galaxy to let it slip through our fingers.”

Much as he wants to reach out, take her hands and pull her to him, bury his face in her hair and pretend none of his worries exist, he can’t.

“I have no future,” he half mutters. “My life is probably half over already. What kind of man would I be if I wasted your years on what little I have left? If I take your chance to have a real family?”

Her breath shutters and Fox winces. He’s upset her more.

“You would be a better man than most,” she whispers. “You’d be giving me everything you had to give, and I’d be honored to receive such a gift.”

Fox can’t help himself, he huffs. 

“That’s a diplomatic way of looking at it.”

She reaches out, takes his hand, puts it to her lips.

“Well, I’m a diplomat.”

Sighing, Fox lets his fingers brush along her cheeks, trace the markings.

“What about marriage? Kids?”

Because he knows she wants those things, or at least the kids. In Pantoran culture though, one necessitates the other. He’s locked out of the loop. 

“Marriage isn’t just a galactic document,” she tells him, leaning in a fraction, her scent clouding his senses. “I’ll find a way.”

It’s a bit ominous, the gleam in her eyes and the steel in her voice, but Fox can’t make himself care. She wants him in her life, however briefly that may be, and it’s all he can let himself want. 

“I can’t have kids,” he says again. “You understand?”

Even if she skirts the marriage issue, children aren’t an option with him. 

Her lips quirk. “Then you’ve been wasting a lot of condoms your brothers could be using to keep from the med bay.”

Fox rolls his eyes. 

“That’s not what I mean.” He shakes his head. “The Kaminoans, if they hear about a clone having a kid, they’ll swoop in and claim ownership quicker than a Neimoidian on an unguarded trade route.”

The thought of a baby, chubby and bumbling and helpless as Mako being snatched away and experimented on turns his stomach.

“Much as I’d love to watch you round up with our baby in your belly, I can’t risk that.”

Her smile softens. 

“You really would be an excellent father.”

It still stings, hearing praise for something he’ll never be, but coming from Riyo eases the pain a bit. 

She wraps her arms around his middle, presses her ear to his chest. 

“I’d no more let them take our child than I’ll let them take you someday,” she squeezes him, punctuating her words, “understand?”

He does, and somehow, coming from her, he believes it. Soft and gentle as she is, she’d fight tooth and nail for him and their fictitious child. He even believes she’d win. 

“I understand.”

He can feel her smile. 

“Good.” She tilts her head, chin to his sternum, bites her lip as she peers at him through her lashes. “Will you come home?”

Home. He almost laughs. He’d never considered anywhere home, but now, wherever she is, he knows it’s where he belongs. Where he wants to be. 

Fox leans down, presses his forehead to hers. He was done for the moment she made her bad joke. There’d been no other possible outcome. 

“I get the impression you’ll drag me if I say no.”

She narrows her eyes. 

“By the hair.”

Chuckling, Fox presses a kiss to her forehead, then lips, stopping when she pulls back and makes a face. 

“What have you-you need to brush your teeth!”

Ignoring her, he kisses her again. He’s been starved for touch and affection, and can’t make himself stop so soon after starting. 

She protests, weakly, giggling as he presses a line down her neck and noses at the loose collar of her gown. 

When she’s breathless, eyes bright and lips swollen, she presses her palms to his cheeks, stills him with a burning look. 

“If this is going where I think it is, we may want to relocate.”

That’s an understatement. The last thing he needs is his nosy vod barging in and catching them on his filthy couch. He’d never live it down. 

He’s halfway through a nod when he freezes with realization.

“How did you get here?”

Because if Nately left Raicho and Mako unguarded, he’s a dead man. If he let Riyo bound off into the night alone, he’s a dead man. He’s dead no matter what. 

“I-I commed Thorn,” she confesses, cheeks tinged indigo. “I’ve been whining to him these past few days and I think he’s had enough of it. When I reached him tonight he told me I could either come talk some sense into you or he’ll murder you and solve everyone’s problem. So I asked him to escort me here.”

“Hm,” Fox grunts. “Thanks for saving my life then.”

She presses up on her toes, kisses him softly. 

“Always.”

-

Riyo’s bed is a welcome comfort after nights of sleeping at his desk. His neck thanks him the most. 

Her warmth radiates across his body as she curls around him, and if she didn’t normally do so, he’d say she’s making sure he stays.

“You should sleep,” she murmurs, eyes still closed, nose pressed to his chest. “Morning comes early.”

“Mmm.” It does. But then another night will come and he’ll be back in her bed, wrapped in her sheets with her heat easing his aching soul. 

He’ll happily forfeit sleep to memorize her body’s impression against his. He can think of no other way he’d like to waste what little free time he has. 

It’s hardly a normal life, but he’s not a normal man. He’ll take his imperfect now and murky future as long as Riyo is there to knock some sense into him along the way. 

“Riyo?” He barely whispers, expecting her to have already drifted back to sleep.

She shifts, crushes closer to him. “Hmm?” 

“Do you really think I’d be a good father?”

Even half asleep, she doesn’t hesitate. 

“The best.”

Pulling her closer, Fox kisses her sweet smelling hair, closes his eyes. 

Her good opinion, sleep clouded and exhausted as it may be, means everything to him. 

Maybe she’s right, he thinks as he allows himself to relax, sleep crowding into his mind, filling his dreams with a family that may never exist on a planet he’s only seen in holos. 

Maybe, if Riyo gets a say, he’ll get a future.


End file.
